#*incomprehensible chanting*

[blood-orange-juice]

Ok. Can we talk about The Ballad of the Fjords again. This is all extremely obvious but I'm starting to see the value of writing down obvious things.

I've been thinking about Kaeya's surname pretty much since his release. Because, you know, Alberich. The svartálfar king who safekeeps Nibelung's treasure in Nibelungenlied ("The Song of Nibelungs", 13th century poem. do you see the parallel with "The Ballad of the Fjords"?). And now three years later we have things to tie it back to.

The Things:

The dragon Nibelung who acquired the forbidden knowledge from outside this world and led the other ancient dragons into war against The Heavenly Principles (according to Nahida's second quest).

Nibelung refers to all kinds of creatures in Norse and Old German stories, sometimes it's a dragon, somethimes it's a group of svartálfar (dwarves/elves/fae, for simplicity).

Rhinedottir the alchemist, the creator of our beloved horrors. Theorised to be the one who discovered/created something that led to Khaenri'ahs downfall.

She's a reference to Rhinemaidens invented by Wagner, spirits of watery depth and keepers of magical gold. If you were looking for Enkanomiya/primordial sea/whale connections, here's another one.

Also in Wagner's operas Alberich is the main antagonist of the Rings of Nibelung cycle (one of the few characters that stay alive too!), the one who steals the gold from the Rhinemaidens (renouncing love in exchange for power) and the one whos actions lead to the death of gods and the desctruction of Valhalla.

(something something arrogation of mankind obligatory mention)

And now we have The Ballad of the Fjords BP spear and its description:

If this is not a Nibelung mythos reference I don't know what this is.

[vyragosa]

my standard for a rematch of samhiggs in DS2 is way too high (if it even happens) it's too high because i can't possibly settle for anything less, if they are truly nemesis then, they will have the guts to call out each other like this, no more miracles from the savior? and really, it's calling forth hope and nothing else

[thegrindragon]

vague gremlin

huh? wuh?

[desolationcleo]

so we're all in agreement that if jimmy doesn't die first, we'll make art and fics of the bad boys finding out grian's a watcher and jimmy asking if he can remove his death curse and grian managing to do it

[lunarr-knows-no-bounds]

me too

the types of mutuals:

-just a dude

-secretively a god

-secretively a god but bad at hiding it

-chaos incarnate

-vague gremlin

-the wholesome bean

-the precious bean

-yearn incarnate

-info dump fren

-cursed bitch ass motherfucker

-*incomprehensible chanting*

-mumble

-fandom hive

[belle--ofthebrawl]

You are most definitely some sort of fae creature and bad at hiding it. With a light dusting of chaos incarnate.

Who said anything about trying to hide my impish nature? Perhaps at the start when I didn't know anyone but now...the glamour is dropped. Look through this hagstone, if you have the nerve to try. What will you see, I wonder...

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, non - con, manhandling, religious subtext (it's sydney)

Sydney has never felt this way before. He doesn't know the name of that feeling, the warmth that fills his chest and tightens his throat and reddens his cheeks as you sit before him at the library counter. He can't explain the pulse in his loins and the sweat that sticks to his back when you lean in to ask him something and your shirt opens up slightly, revealing such soft, mesmerizing skin. His hands start to itch and his mouth waters and he feels almost thirsty - but water never seems to quench whatever it is he's deprived of.

He wants to ask someone - maybe brother Jordan or his father, but something deep within him, some basic instinct, rings a bell, a reminder that there is nothing pure or holy about the feelings he harbors towards you. He knows love. He's read about it - he knows he loves God, he loves his church, his friends, his books. He knows love is gentle. Love is caring and tender and quiet, love is giving.

But when it comes to you, he only wants to take. He wants to bite your cheeks when you smile, to squeeze you in his arms until he hears your fragile bones crack. He wants to rip off your skin and crawl in your shell - to see your insides, to admire every inch of your flesh for his own sick satisfaction. He even keeps a box of everything you've ever lost - small trinkets, cheap bracelets, ripped socks, locks of hair... Anything to feel closer to you.

And yet Sydney tries to fight his urges - he averts eyes when you bend to pick something and pretends not to notice your bare legs in those mini skirts, the way the school swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly, or how your lips part when you bite down on a pencil. Or the marks of you teeth on the yellow wood, your smugded lipstick as you leave the bathroom, your hands on his shoulder with your nails digging in—

Sydney is a man of God, but you make him question his faith. In the sunlight everything is brighter, but when night comes, so do the nightmares. His pillow becomes softer, warmer - it lingers with the scent of your hair and he can't help imagining you laying next to him with an adoring smile on those luscious lips of yours. And as fatigue spreads over his tired body, his prayers long forgotten, the same dream haunts him - the one he's had since the day he first saw you.

You're no longer laying next to him - you're under him instead. Your hair isn't spread out angelically, but twisted and disheveled, wrapped around his fist. He's towering over you, tilting your chin up - holding you so tightly against his body you can't move an inch. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips bruised and bitten bloody - and you're trembling like an injured animal. You look so small, so pathetically adorable, so very naked and afraid, and splayed out like a feast in front of him, and he just devours you like the predator he knows he is.

You whine something incomprehensible along the lines of a plea, begging to be let go - but all your words become white noise to Sydney. His hands circle your throat painfully and only a few broken moans escape before you shut up completely. The man keeps thrusting into you without a sense of shame, egged on by the deep, inaudible sobs that shake your body to its core. The voice inside his head chants "mine, mine, mine" like a spell, like a curse that binds you both for all eternity.

Sydney always wakes up in cold sweat, unable to catch his breath. It's terrifying, seeing his darkest desires play out over and over each night. And as he tries to catch his breath and forget the taste of your neck on his tongue, there is one thought he never seems to fully rid himself of. How long until dreams are not enough to feed the monster inside of him?

How long until it all becomes reality?

[onsomenewsht]

Aching legs that often told us it’s all worth it

About when you just win everything and you just want a hug

》 Barcelona Femini x Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader

》 word count: +2k

》 cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit cras amet [latin verse]: let the one love tomorrow who has never loved, and let the one who has loved love tomorrow

It’d be hypocritical to say you have never imagined this moment, that you have never dreamt of this exact moment. It’d be hypocritical to say that you have never, in the comfort of your bathroom, lifted a bottle of shampoo picturing this very trophy.

But no dream nor bottle of shampoo can remotely come close to how you feel when the referee blows the whistle three times, proclaiming your club the winner of the Champions League.

The legs, which just until a moment ago were close to giving up under the weight of an intense and stressful 90 minutes of running back and forth, suddenly sprint towards the centre of the pitch to join the Blaugrana bubble.

Screams and celebrations in more languages than you can recognise can’t bother you as you know well enough you’re all saying the same thing, you’re all sharing and expressing the same joy.

“Non ci credo!” [I don’t believe this!], Giulia jumps on your back without a care – the excitement to win such a big competition at such a young age fills you with pride.

What a bright future these kids have in front of them.

“Credici, it’s the first of many”

You’re optimistic tonight, it’s the first Champions League for you too after all.

You carry her around the pitch for five good minutes, hugging and cheering with every single teammate you meet in your path. The Italian girl gets dragged away not long after to join the kids’ groups.

You don’t mind it too much, you feel too old to keep up with their endless energy anyway.

For the first time since the end of the game you find yourself looking around, looking for a blonde woman – probably hidden behind a ridiculous hat.

It’s Keira who manages to catch your attention, screaming in that incomprehensible accent of hers right in your ears and dragging you towards the podium.

The trophy ceremony flies in a blur of cheers and confetti, despite your best attempts to savour every single minute of this incredible and historic win.

When, between pictures and out-of-key chants, a moment of apparent calm arrives, and you take advantage of it to look in the stands for your family.

At least the journey was not in vain this time.

The wrinkles around your mom’s mouth are a clear sign she’s been smiling for hours, the watery eyes of your father are the clearest expression of pride you will get from him. You hug them both for as long as they allow you, still reserving your biggest hug for your brother.

No sign of her yet.

“Here I was, thinking I couldn’t be more proud of you”.

You can’t hold back your tears.

After all, he’s your biggest and longest supporter, cheering for you since you used to play with boys double your age and size.

“Shut up and let me hug Andrea”, you say, reaching for your excited nephew.

The attention the toddler gives you is long enough to admire your medal and to kick a couple of times towards the goal when you let him onto the pitch. As soon as he spots Claudia, recently declared his favourite player ever, he sprints in her direction to steal her from Patri. You let him be, there’s Irene with the group of barely-grown-ups.

You don’t hold back a laugh as you see María run out of nowhere, her flag secured in one hand and a contagious smile on her face. You can’t wait to see her play again.

Then the sudden realisation you’re alone hits you hard. You’re alone, not too far away from the middle of the pitch. As much alone someone can be in the middle of a Champions League final celebration, but alone nonetheless.

Around you, teammates and friends and families are gathered in different bubbles, jumping and cheering without much of a care. The stands are filled with Blaugrana colours, singing loud and proud.

For the first time today, you let yourself get carried away by the supporters’ passion, admiring every single corner of the stadium as the privileged spectator of your own story.

You just witnessed a moment in football’s history.

You’d cry if not for the fitted body that crushes into you unexpectedly, bringing you back to the green grass without much effort.

“La poeta!”

“La reina!”

You share with Alexia a hug way more intense and sentimental than what you’re used to. You let emotion overcome you one more time as the captain holds you firmly, large hands caressing your back and keeping you present.

Her eyes are as shining as her all self, this victory means so much more than the obvious for most of you.

“You had to come in and score just like that, celebrate just like that”

“¿Qué puedo decir?” [What can I say?], the blonde shrugs her shoulders, but after years of friendship you can tell when the fine line between being humble and being aware of your own greatness blurs.

Alexia holds your face between her hands, the smirk painted on her lips shifts slightly to a more serious smile.

“Te lo mereces, lo sabes?” [You know you deserve this, right?]

“We all do”

“No, no, you deserve this”, she says firmly, addressing the elephant in the room dressed as the loan that last year broke your confidence.

You were there in Turin, it looked like a twist of fate to be away from Barcelona when they lifted the most beautiful trophy in Europe’s football.

This victory means more to you than what you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.

That’s one of the reasons why you’re still looking for her in the crowd.

“Enough with this mushy stuff, where’s my favourite Putellas?”

“Lo juro, si no dejas de hablar así de mi hermana–” [I swear, if you keep talking like this of my sister–]

“Oh, I was talking about your mom, but now that we’re on it–”

The punch she throws on your arm is light, but the message is clear. You and Alba have too much fun provoking Alexia, who is way overprotective of the both of you to realise that the jokes are only aimed at annoying her.

Feeling called upon, the two women join you with huge smiles on their faces. Eli welcomes you with a motherly hug, somehow sensing the tension on your shoulders.

“¿Qué es esa mala cara?” [Why the long face?]

“She can’t find her girlfriend”

“¡Alba, callate!”

Alexia raises an eyebrow at her sister’s quip, not happy to be let out about this.

She doesn’t know about the situationship you find yourself in. It’s not like you don’t trust the blonde, you do. But you’re aware of the protective tendencies and, on top of everything, you’re a bit scared of the lecture about the importance of being honest with your feelings and all that shit.

She’s too emotionally mature now.

Luckily, Olga comes running to meet you, distracting the captain from any inquisitive question without much effort.

“You’re disgusting”, you say to Alexia, now used to her open smile and carefree attitude whenever her girlfriend is close enough to light up her usually stoic face.

“¡Oy!”

“I wasn’t talking about Olga, I like Olga”, you state, dropping an arm around Alba’s shoulder who immediately joins the joke, “Yeah, lovesick Alexia is scary”

Eli has to intervene, still laughing at her daughter’s expense.

“They’re just jealous”

Olga’s right, you can hide it from everyone but yourself. You’re definitely a little envious of the cute relationship and happiness that seem to follow your friend like a glowing shadow.

You want a love like that too.

Your gaze starts wandering around the pitch once again, hoping to find the person who’s hunting your dreams and nightmares.

You know she’s here, you overheard Keira talking about her before the game.

She’s just not here for you.

Quickly excusing yourself from the Putellas’ family, muttering something about looking for your nephew to relieve anyone who found themselves babysitting, you bid your goodbye.

Before you can get away Alexia hugs you one last time, letting you know you’re not escaping her questions.

You find Andrea easily, entertained as he runs around followed shortly by another child – Mapi.

“Oh, wow, it’s like looking at your future!”, you teasingly nod at Ingrid, who’s way too entranced by the scene.

The Norwegian just grins, holding you as she kisses your forehead, always amused about the height difference. Her silence is loud enough.

Another jolt of jealousy strikes your body, immediately subsided by the reassuring presence of the defender and the loving gaze reserved for the enthusiastic Spanish woman nearby.

You couldn’t hate them even if you wanted to, they’re too beautiful together and you’re too happy for them.

When your nephew finally notices you, he seems to remember you actually are his favourite person. He outruns María, literally jumping between your arms – risking falling on his face just once by tripping over the flag that one of your teammates must have tied around his neck like a cape.

“¡Visca Barça!”

“Your father supports Milan”

“Ser del Barça es el millor que hi ha!”, he states in an impressive Catalan.

“Who taught you that?”

The kid points at Aitana and Jana, both sporting a smug grin all over their faces as they greet you from close by. The latter is lucky you’re feeling merciful enough to not embarrass her in front of her girlfriend.

You can just shake your head and laugh about the situation.

“You can give Keira Spanish lessons”, you say to Andrea as you position him comfortably on your shoulders.

You try to be subtle as you observe all the people on the pitch. If anyone asks, you are simply looking for your brother in the crowd of Blaugrana to return the child to its rightful owner.

Even if your brother is not a gorgeous footballer you can’t get out of your mind.

Of course you find him in a conversation with Keira.

“Tell me more about this high school suspension”, you hear the English midfielder ask.

“Tell her absolutely nothing!”

The chat goes on for a few more minutes, you’re a little ashamed to admit that you’re not listening to a single word as you still look around.

It’s your nephew who brings you back to reality, pulling you by the collar of your medal. You quickly bid your goodbyes to both of them, making sure you can meet again before they have to go back home and you have to be dragged into all the post-final engagements.

“You’re hopeless”

“What?”

“You’re both unbelievable”

“Where is your girlfriend? You’re bearable when Laura is around”

“She’s somewhere with your girlfriend”

At her obvious taunt, your gaze still flies in all the directions your neck humanely allows.

You really are hopeless.

Keira’s laugh is the final nail in the coffin, the only one amused about the situation.

She’s also the one who introduced you to the person you thought would just be a fun night out over a year ago, the person who turned out to be comforting and a constant thought.

The person who makes you realise midair you’re falling in love.

No strings attached though.

“Go to her!”

“She’s not here for me”

“Don’t drag me in, you useless stubborn–”

The blonde has a point, you can’t deny that the mutual friendship is the perfect excuse to find each other in the same places at the same time. The perfect opportunity to see each other again as much as possible without questioning the blurred line between an armless fuck and growing feelings.

Nights of fun soon turned into morning talks in the warmth of a hotel bed, then whole days spent exploring each other’s lives.

If only one of you dares to admit wanting more.

“Ohi, champ!”

As you hear her voice you never turn around so fast in your life, almost injuring yourself from the force with which you move. You don’t even hear Keira bust out laughing at your side.

“Hi”

“Ciao”

What a stupid smile you have on your face, just staring at each other a few steps away.

You’re sweaty and tired from the match and the celebrations, pretty sure your hair is a mess and your legs are on the verge of giving up. Yet she thinks she has never seen you more beautiful.

“Oh, for fuck’ sake, just kiss or whatever”, Keira grabs you both by an arm when neither of you makes any sign of moving, impatiently pushing you closer to the other and leaving, muttering something you’re not sure you want to know.

“Don’t run too far, you still have an interview in Catalan to do”

You don’t hear your friend’s response, you don’t even see her finger up in the air. When Leah laughs every other sound and person fades into the background.

“Can’t wait for that to happen”

“You and any other culés”

A few more moments pass before the blonde adds, “I think congratulations are in order”, pointing to the medal you wear around your neck – suddenly heavier.

“Thank you”, you whisper, lowering your gaze and nervously turning the object over in your hands.

You don’t need to see her, always hyper aware of her presence around you. You feel her approaching and enveloping you in a warm embrace, the hug you’ve been waiting for all day.

You have to admit to yourself it’s the best you’ve received today.

[pucksandpower]

Under the Influence

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc knows three things (1) wisdom teeth have nothing to do with being wise (2) his face looks like a chipmunk and (3) he really really really loves his girlfriend

Warnings: mention of minor medical procedure

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. Bleary eyed, you reach for it and squint at the screen. 37 missed calls and too many texts to count, all from Charles.

It’s the big day — your boyfriend is finally getting his wisdom teeth removed this morning. You had wanted to go with him to the oral surgeon but Charles insisted he would be fine on his own.

Clearly, that was not the case.

The phone starts vibrating again and you swipe to answer. Before you can even say hello, Charles’ slurred voice comes through the speaker. “Ma choupinette! I misssss you!” He draws out the last word for several seconds. You stifle a laugh at how loopy he sounds from the painkillers.

“Hi, my love. How are you feeling?” You ask gently.

You hear some shuffling on his end of the line.

“I feel ... so good! I can’t feel my face though. Is it still there?” More shuffling noises. “Yep, still here! Wow, my cheeks are soooo big and fluffy now!” He descends into a fit of giggles.

You grin and shake your head. Your poor Charles is definitely still under the influence of the drugs. “I’m glad you’re not in any pain. Are you home already?”

“Yep! Safe and sound in my bed. But it’s so lonely without you here. You should come over and cuddle me!” His words come out muffled, no doubt because his mouth is still numb.

You glance at the clock — it’s still relatively early in the morning. “I would love to but I have a few things to take care of first. I’ll come by this afternoon to check on you though, okay?”

Charles lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiiiiine. Hey, did you know you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world? And you’re so nice too! I’m the luckiest ...” He trails off into incomprehensible mumbling.

You have to press your hand to your mouth to hold in your laughter. Anesthetized Charles is even more adorable than regular Charles. “Thank you, my love. You’re very kind. Now get some rest, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okayyyy, bye bye gorgeous!” Charles singsongs before hanging up. Still chuckling, you set your phone down to start getting ready for the day. Your productivity is short lived however, as your phone immediately starts buzzing again.

Charles is calling you back.

With a mix of amusement and exasperation, you answer the call. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Charles’ cheerful voice exclaims, “I forgot to tell you I love you!”

You can’t help but laugh out loud this time. “I love you too, Charles.”

“Yay!” He cheers. In the background, you hear a woman’s voice telling Charles to stay in bed and get some rest. It must be his mother looking after him. Thank goodness for her help today.

You talk Charles into hanging up and leaving you be for now. As entertaining as loopy Charles is, you do need to run some errands. You eventually make it out the door and head into town. While perusing the aisles of the grocery store, your phone buzzes again. Expecting it to be Charles, you don’t even look at the screen before answering with an amused, “Yes, my love?”

Instead of your boyfriend’s sleepy voice, you hear numerous screams and squeals on the other end. Before you can ask what’s happening, the chaos turns into a bunch of people chanting “Say it again! Say it again! Say it again!”

Your stomach drops. You pull the phone away to look at the screen. Sure enough, Charles is broadcasting on Instagram Live and waving at an alarmingly large crowd of fans gathered below his apartment. Dreading what you’re about to witness, you bring the phone back to your ear. The chanting continues until Charles finally obliges.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you sooooo much! You’re the bestest, most bootiful, charming girl in the whole universe and I love you more than racing!” His confession is met with deafening squeals from his adoring devotees. You stand frozen in the cheese aisle, one hand clutching your grocery basket, cheeks flaming red. This is not exactly how you hoped your relationship would go public.

Charles is still slurring sluggishly into the phone, rambling on about how perfect and wonderful you are. You try to get a word in edgewise to stop him but his fans keep egging him on.

“Charles, honey, maybe you should get off Live and rest ...” you attempt feebly.

He gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you my girlfriend? Y/N? Is that you?”

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “Yes Charles, it’s me.”

The screams somehow increase in volume at this admission. Charles laughs with delight. “Guys, this is my girlfriend! Isn’t she the coolest? I’m the luckiest guy ever!”

Despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but melt a little at his ear-to-ear grin and heart eyes on the screen. He looks utterly smitten, even in his disoriented, post-op state. His fans seem to be eating it up too, flooding the comments with things like “My life won’t be complete until someone looks at me the way that Charles looks at Y/N” and “Charles is boyfriend of the year!”

You spend the next 15 minutes gently trying to persuade Charles to end the livestream and rest to no avail. He is having far too much fun gushing about you and interacting with his followers. You field a few questions from curious fans, keeping your answers light to avoid revealing too much. It’s clear they are enthralled by this lovestruck version of the normally private Ferrari driver.

Finally, after Charles has told the story of your first date no less than five times, his mother comes to your rescue. She appears on camera and tenderly tells Charles the “show” is over and he needs to sleep. He pouts adorably but allows her to tuck him back into bed and take away his phone. Just before the Live ends, he blows a loopy kiss to the camera and says “Love you, mon chouchou!” The fans go wild in the chat before the feed cuts out.

You slump against your shopping cart in relief. Your phone is already flooded with texts from friends and family who saw the Instagram fiasco. You shoot off some quick reassurances that you’re both fine and it was just the medication talking. Bagging the rest of your abandoned groceries, you check out as fast as possible. There’s somewhere you need to be right now.

Twenty minutes later you’re knocking on the door of Charles’ apartment. His mother opens it with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry about earlier dear, the anesthesia made him a bit out of it as I’m sure you noticed.”

Charles perks up when you enter his bedroom. “You came!” He mumbles happily, making grabby hands at you. You settle onto the bed next to him and he immediately nuzzles into you like an affectionate kitten. His mother slips out to give you two some privacy.

You run your fingers soothingly through his hair. “How are you feeling now, my love?”

“Mmm ... sleepy. And really happy you’re here." He smiles dopily up at you. “Did I do something silly earlier? I don’t really remember.”

You debate downplaying it but figure he’ll find out eventually when the internet explodes. “You may have repeatedly declared your undying love for me on an Instagram Live ...” you say sheepishly.

Charles’ eyes go wide. “No way, really? Wow ...” He blinks slowly, processing this new information. A sly grin spreads across his swollen face. “Well it’s true. I meant every word.”

You kiss his forehead tenderly. “I know you did. Now get some more rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Charles looks up at you adoringly. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more,” you boop him on the nose.

He giggles. “No way. I love you more-er.”

“Impossible. I love you most,” you insist.

“Nuh-uh,” Charles protests. “I love you most-est.”

You laugh at his stubborn persistence. “Alright, you win. Now close your eyes.”

Charles snuggles impossibly closer into your side and soon his breathing evens out as he drifts back to sleep. You brush a few curls off his forehead and whisper “I love you most-est-est.”

You make sure the blankets are wrapped securely around him and shake your head affectionately at your adorable, clueless boyfriend. Today certainly didn’t go as expected but you wouldn’t trade your Charles for anything in the world.

[burning-omen]

Happy (Belated) Halloween!

Jason Todd x Demon!male!reader

(A/n: I'm tired, I've been getting argued at and pulled into fights that have nothing to do with me from the time I woke up- had a bunch of chores and shit to do and the fucking grocery store was packed and people keep bumping into me and all the fucking prices went way up since the last time I was there less than a month ago- I'm thoroughly overstimulated and getting home to edit and rewrite certain parts of this shitty little fic was a probably the best part of my day.)

Warning: crack fic kinda, blood, Demon!reader, murder, mutilation, and gore, summoning gone right technically, reader has TWO dicks, size difference, overstimulation, masochism, probably misspellings idk I'm not reading it again that's your job, dom/sub, ownership marking, sacrifice (rip that guy, ive been calling him marvin in my head), going missing for a lil while (consensually), OOC jason todd but this is literally porn who cares

word count: 1981 (short, i know, shut up/j)

Halloween parties were the worst. If the loud, drunk, half-naked crowd wasn’t enough to convince Jason, walking in on an honest to god seance was.

Being dragged to a party by Dick, only to lose him in the crowd of people within the first few minutes. He just wanted some quiet- and under the guise of looking for how brother he managed to avoid nearly every conversation that came his way- except for some incomprehensible drunk girl who insisted on holding a conversation with his even though she sounded like she was under water every time she opened her mouth.

He eventually managed to escape from her, finding the nearest room to recuperate in, only to be greeted by a room of chanting, drunk party-goers, kneeling around a shakily drawn yet intricate summoning circle. The chant was Latin- super old Latin- and Jason really wanted no part in this. He knew that demons were real, he knew a lot of shit that was supposedly fake was real- he had Batman to thank for that. So, after standing in the room for about 30 seconds, he decided to leave.

Turning on his heel, not saying a word to whatever party cult he just walked in on- deadset on leaving when he heard choking, and gasps from the mini cult as they clamored around the chanter who had suddenly collapsed.

Taking in a deep breath, cursing Bruce and the unwavering need to help he instilled in all of his children, before turning back to the group.

Laying, choking in the middle of the circle was a young man-

‘He’s drunk,’ Jason thought, pushing through the group surrounding him, their concern was nice- but unhelpful ‘probably choked on his tongue.’

Tilting his head back, the choking became louder- tears streamed down his face, his mouth agape as he clawed at his throat- his eyes desperate and afraid.

“It’s okay,” Jason tried, but he wasn’t exactly known for his bedside manner. “Just let me look.”

He peered down the man's throat- his tongue was wear it was supposed to be, but blood still filled the man’s mouth. Clearly whatever was happening here was internal, there's nothing Jason could do for him. Before he could ask anyone to call an ambulance- he saw something move at the very back of his throat. Even through the pooling blood, he could tell something wasn’t right- what the hell did he swallow?

His neck bulged as something made its way up- that was good- maybe. Slowly pushing up- whatever it was- caused the man to cry out in pain. He coughed and sputtered as it moved up and up until it pushed past the muscles of his throat and out of his mouth. A hand, clawed- drenched in blood, moving with so much force that a crack sounded through the room as more and more of the form inside him- whatever it was- came out. Breaking his jaw to finally reach out and grab his face- he cried out as pain and panic filled him- he turned to Jason for help as his friends fled but there wasn’t anything Jason could do but sit there in horror as an arm lifted from his broken and mutilated face- he cheeks tearing in as his mouth opened to unnatural length.

The bloody arm clawed at the floor, sharp talon like nails leaving deep wounds in the wood. Jason backed away- fear as well as guilt taking over. The basic instinct that anyone who had even taken the moniker “Robin” knew took over soon after, he needs to call batman- he couldn’t handle whatever this is, not on his own. He reached for his phone right as the candle lit room suddenly went dark. Jason, usually so strong and sure, didn’t know what to do. His communicator clattered to the floor as he stood.

He swore quietly- backing up until he was pressed against the wall- the sound of flesh tearing filled the room- still hot blood splattered across his face.

A soft growl came from the dark, deep and steady and growing closer by the second. Then,as if they had never been out, the candles were re-lit.

A massive beastly thing stood above him, horned and winged- a long tail trailing behind it. Soaked in the blood of the man that was scattered in chunks around the room. Despite knowing that he should definitely be afraid, a man had been ripped from the inside out right in front of him, something somewhere in his mind was saying, “would”. The thought immediately made him cringe at himself- he could not survive that- not only were you massive, you were also very naked. With not one but two just as massive, heavy cocks resting between your legs. He’d die, simply put, torn in half Terrifier style.

“Scared, human?” You asked, voice just as inhuman as your form.

Suddenly unable to find his words, Jason shook his head.

The action made you purr- something was so wrong with this man, not running or screaming, but instead sitting before you, his eyes wandering over your body, face reddened as his heart pounded in his chest.

He didn’t even attempt to move when you reached for him, his breath caught in his throat, but he remained perfectly still as you stroked his hair, then ran the backside of your claws down his cheek. All the way down to his chest, pressing just the tip of your claw in, watching as his shirt quickly became stained with blood.

“Not scared? How brave of you, human. “ You mused, “I require sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” he barely managed.

Trailing your claw lower and lower until the point of it rested over the growing bulge in his pants.

“A sacrifice of life is usually offered.” You pressed down, “But, another kind of offering will suffice.”

Jason breathed out- he can’t. Mentally, he could- he’s done all kinds of weird shit, fucking a demon wouldn’t even come close to the worse things he done- it doesn’t even reach top ten with the rest of his family’s track record for weird shit. But physically, that would kill him. One alone would shatter his pelvis and probably paralyze him- two would just straight up kill him. And you really didn’t seem like the kind of demon to go half way- you did come all the way from hell after all.

The obvious thing to do was to say no and call a fucking exorcist- but Jason didn’t do that, instead he speaks, so sure and steady as he spoke-

“Can you shrink?”

The entirety of your form became, your horns no longer scraped the ceiling, but you were still massive above Jason. You didn’t make it easy for him- pressing him into the floor with one clawed hand gripping his hair tightly, knees pressed into the hard wood and legs spread wide open, his cock- which you decided needed to remain untouched for the “sacrifice” to be valid.

Labored breathing, gasping and all encompassing sobs filled the room as both of your cock stretched him to the limit every time you thrusted into him- his nearly blunt nails leaving marks in the wooden floor below him.

With his mouth hanging wide open- he begged- muttering a broken “Please-’’ between moans-

You leaned down, pulling him up by his hair- resting inside him before speaking.

“You want more, human?”

Eyes brimmed with tears, feeling far fuller than felt natural- but so good and warm at the exact same time- deep in his stomach all the down to the very tips of his toes, every nerve so very alive.

He nods, shortly and without hesitation.

You grip on his hair loosens, and he sighs in relief as the burning pain in his scalp stops.

Only to flair up in his hips as you dig your claws into them, literally. Piercing through skin and drawing blood that slid over his skin and pooled beneath him on the floor. Jason, ever the masochist, only gets louder. With the party outside still raging on, you're sure the sound blended into the background- and any attendee lucky enough to have heard the high, whiny moans was listening far too hard.

Thrusting became painful, hard slamming- both cocks abusing his prostate with unnatural accuracy. Pulling out until the tips of your cock were just barely inside of him- then pressing back in so hard his entire body was pushed forward.

Jason’s mind was loud and incoherent - incomplete thoughts running through his head, cut short by either pain or pleasure every single time.

His body spammed unwillingly, muscles tightening and releasing, his hole tightened around you in an attempt to suck you in more- even if more would cause so so many problems for the man.

“So greedy,” you hummed in his ear, and you take cock so well.”

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t, overwhelmed and obsessed with the feeling. His orgasm- the first of many snuck up on him, his body overstimulated and oversensitive as hot, white cum shot straight onto the floor.

He gasped for air as though he’d been held under water- his body burned as he clenched around you- pleasure gone- replaced by what could only be described as fire destroying him from the inside out. He cried out in pain, his body writhes and contorts- and yet he never asks you to stop.

You grinned, “so cute, I might just have to keep you, human.”

You weren’t far behind him, cum seeping from both of your tips as you buried yourself deep inside him- it only added to the burning. Filling him so much until his hole, still plugged with your cock, leaks it back out. Down his legs and onto the floor, mixing with his own puddle of cum. You watched him for a long moment, letting him grit his teeth and cry at the pain, before showing your newest pet a bit of mercy and pulling out.

His body slouched onto the floor the moment you leg go. Jason was on the verge of passing out, eyes barely open, covered in blood, sweat, and cum. He has a high pain tolerance and his stamina was through the roof- but fucking hell he was so tired, and everything hurt, from his over used knees, to his damn near broken hole, and the small wounds your claws had made- coupled with an over bearing overstimulation making everything ten times worse- Jason, without question, was never doing this again.

—--- A couple weeks later—---

Dick realized that Jason wasn’t a party person, but for him to just disappear (and possibly kill someone at the party??? What the hell Jay???) for weeks seemed to be a bit of an overreaction.

But when he walked into the manor, happy as can be, after just being gone for three weeks, Dick knew something was very wrong- or very unusual- was happening.

“I had a date.” Was Jason’s only response, as he leaned heavily against the back of a chair, but never actually sat down in it.

“A date?!” Dick is so glad he questioned him in private. “With who?”

Jason shrugged, “met a guy at the party.”

“Jason you just dropped off of the face of the Earth with some guy for nearly a month?!”

Dick didn’t realize how literal that was- Hell has some pretty nice residential areas, it turns out.

“I was having fun.”

Jason, of course, was never going to tell Dick what he has really been doing- or what he will continue to be doing for the foreseeable future- but it was fun watching him freak out at every vague answer he gave.

The mark (brand?? Tattoo??) on his back still felt weird, sensitive from its spot hidden under his clothes, but how else would other demon, humans, and every other sentient being know that he was yours.

(a/n 2: AND I KNOW ITS LATE BUT I STILL FINISHED IT WITHIN A REASONABLE TIME SO EVERYBODY SHUT UP/j)

[melancholiaincarnate]

so far so good

warnings - none

authors note - hi :P this is my first published acotar fic :3 i mentioned in a post a couple of days ago i wanted to start a series with ficlets about mated azriel x reader who happen to adopt a shadowsinger child named piper. here's the first installment :) i plan on making more so if you have requests for them send em in :D

"okay piper," azriel stretches, an action that causes a swirl in your stomach as his shirt lifts up slightly, revealing the hair decorating his tummy. "ready?"

"i'm ready!" she bounces on her feet, excitement visible on her face. shadows zip quickly around her - faster than you can blink. her shadows are impatient and easily excited, unlike azriel's, who prefer to wait and watch.

"remember, we're practicing winnowing. can you do that?" azriel cracks his knuckles and his wings shudder, then he disappears. he shortly reappears behind piper, and she squeals with delight. "i can't winnow so my winnowing looks a little different than yours but i promise - it's practically the same thing."

"yes! yes! i know! you told me! i can do it, azzy, i swear!" she shouts back at him, shadows twirling at her feet, "it's my turn!"

"alright, alright. it's your turn, pip." he smiles softly at her, crouching down to whisper something in her ear before she shuts her eyes so hard her whole face squishes.

"remember to envision where you want to go." his voice is soft in the child's ear. you watch as he smoothes down her hair as he stands to observe.

piper's body begins to slowly disappear but when she murmurs a "i'm doing it!" her body comes back into focus.

"you have to stay focused, pip." he reminds, giving her a nod. "focus is key."

"focus is key." her small voice repeats, and then suddenly she's at your side.

"hi! wait - woah- hi- hi! i did it! look, i was over there and now i'm over here!" you're sure you've never seen such delight on a single person's face before. "i did it! i did it, azzy i did it! look!"

"good job, piper." his voice is as stoic as ever but pride swims in his veins. azriel assumes that this is why cassian and rhys want children. the pure joy that sits in his chest right now has no match for anything he's ever experienced.

and yet, there's a clawing deep in his mind. it's in his chest, his bones, in the scars on his hand. he feels an attachment to this child - this girl that he and you found in the woods alone. this is not his daughter.

as piper runs off with you in tow, screaming about telling cassia, azriel glances at the scars on his hands. azriel could never think about hurting piper. it'd taken half of the inner court to restrain him from going to hunt down piper's attackers.

piper was not his daughter but he was his fathers son. anger rises through him - how could his father look at his own child and do what he'd done, when azriel could not fathom doing it to a child he had no part in creating?

shadows swarm in his ear chanting incomprehensible words to him. the anger is white and hot and it's so consuming that it sends a throng down the bond towards you.

in return, he feels you tugging the bond, tugging towards you, tugging him towards the light again. he breathes - he is not in that basement. "come, az." you whisper softly down the bond, "please."

and who is he to deny you? he unclenches his fists, steadying his breathing once more before tucking his wings and strolling away from the room as if he hadn't nearly fallen into a pit with no way out.

[augustjustice]

You're the One that I Want

@steddie-week prompts: dizzy, drunken confessions @stevieweek prompt: girls night @steddiemicrofic prompt: one | wc: 1111 words rating: T | tags: transfem steve harrington, platonic stobin, sleepovers, phone calls, love confessions

AO3 Link

When the phone rang right around eleven, Eddie had to admit he was sort of surprised.

Not that he was any stranger to nighttime phone calls. One caller in particular had become something of a regular, post-nightmare soothing sessions in the first weeks after Spring Break soon morphing into inane chats about anything and everything. 

But he knew she was busy tonight.

Eddie had been quick to learn, once he’d gotten closer to the Upside Down crew, that weekly Steve and Robin Nights were a sacred tradition. Ever since Stevie came out, the title had transformed into Girls Night, much like their very own lovely jock herself. 

The importance of the day, however, remained the same.

And, it being Thursday, Eddie definitely didn’t expect to hear from her tonight. 

Crossing the trailer, he mused over who it might be instead. Gareth, maybe, since he was still sorting out the kinks of his drum solo in Corroded Coffin’s latest song. 

“Joe’s Pool Hall,” Eddie chirped when he picked up. “We rack ‘em and stack ‘em so you don’t have to!”

“Munson!” Robin’s voice burst out over the line, loud enough Eddie pulled the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Stevie needs to tell you something!”

In the background, he could hear Stevie’s muffled Robbie, nooo.

“Stevie-Evie, come on! Tell him, tell him, tell him.” The speed at which Robin chanted her words left them slurred, tripping over each other. “Exactly what you told me. It’s like–sleepover law. You gotta.”

From the shrieks and incomprehensible arguing that broke out after, Eddie could surmise they’d fallen into a drunken scuffle.

Finally, Stevie’s voice rang out from the receiver. “Hi, Eds!” 

The happiness in her tone made actual butterflies erupt in his stomach. Goddamn, he was such a mess for this girl. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie answered, twirling the cord around one finger. “Sounds to me like you two lovely ladies are having a fun night.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. We totally were. But then Robin,” in her inebriated state, Stevie put extra emphasis on the end of her best friend’s name, “got this bright idea to play, like. All the girls’ sleepover games I missed out on because…well, you know.”

Though Stevie sounded put-out now, Eddie had no doubt the suggestion had delighted her. Indescribable fondness for both girls swelled in his chest. 

“That right? What game are you at–prank call the hottest future rock star you know?” 

“No, sillyhead!” Stevie tittered.

Eddie could practically see her, smile bright and nose scrunched up adorably. The image was so distracting, he almost missed Stevie’s next words. 

“I’m s’posed to call…” she dropped into a hushed whisper, the crinkling sound the receiver made suggesting she had cupped her hand around the phone, “my biggest crush!”

The sentence hit Eddie like a truck, nearly incomprehensible. He felt dizzy with it, the bottom of his stomach dropping out the same way it had on the Gravitron at last year’s Fourth of July Fun Fair. 

“S-Sorry, uh,” he stuttered out, “bad connection, I think. You know how shitty the service down at Forest Park can be. Cuz, for a second, I almost thought you said–”

But Stevie barrelled on, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You’re the one that I want!” she sang out.

Her voice carried all the passion and fervor as the times she was alone in the car with Eddie, taunting him with her favorite new pop hit, or when she and Robin were goofing off, having a dance off after hours at work. Eddie could hear it when Robin joined in for the follow-up chorus of Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!

The absurdity of it made Eddie cackle, momentarily distracted from the racing of his heart. 

“Harrington…did you seriously just sing Grease at me?” 

“I did not!” Stevie protested. 

Eddie wouldn’t have been surprised if she had punctuated that claim with a stamp of her foot. But she followed it up with a little hmph, contemplative. 

“–Well, yeah, okay. So what if I did? That-that isn’t the point. The point is…I want you, Eddie Munson.”

He gulped against the nervousness welling up in his throat. “Princess…you’re actually serious right now, right? This isn’t just, you know…the booze talking?”

“‘Course I’m serious, Eds. Don’t know how you didn’t notice–Robin said my mooning was getting so annoying. But that’s only cuz I’m like…totally in love with you, to be honest.” 

It wasn’t as eloquent and romantic, Eddie suspected, as a sober Stevie Harrington love confession would have been–but, heart flipping in his chest, he cherished it just as much. 

“Oh. Well, shit. Looks like…I better shape up, then.” 

And even though he knew what he was about to do would make him sound completely ridiculous–he couldn’t help but smile, knowing it would be totally worth it. 

So, Eddie took a deep breath and belted back, “Cuz my heart is set on you!”

“Eddie!” Stevie gasped like he had just performed a magic trick. “You know Grease?!”

“Stevie, you gotta swear you’re gonna take that one to your grave. But…sure I do, darling. You think I wouldn’t go out and see one of your favorite movies?”

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice was tempered by a sudden hint of shyness, the kind she usually hid behind a bold, confident exterior. Eddie knew exactly what that was like–and he felt lucky, that Stevie trusted him enough to let him see the vulnerability underneath.  

“Really really. I’m gone for you, Stevie. Have been for…well, hell. A really long damn time.”

Stevie sighed, lovelorn and wistful.

“Me, too.”

Eddie was really glad he wasn’t the one that was drunk right now, or he might have suspected he was dreaming.

“Wanted to tell you for so long–” But whatever sweet thing Stevie had been about to say was cut off, as she suddenly huffed into the phone. “Oh my God, okay! I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”

“All good over there?” 

“Sorry. Robin says I’m hogging the phone,” Eddie could practically hear her eye roll, before her tone turned mischievous. “Besides…now it’s her turn to call Vickie. Talk tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Stevie. See you bright and early.” Bright and early for Eddie usually meant around noon, but, for this, he was willing to make an exception. “And tell Buck–I owe her one.”

You’re welcome! he heard Robin sing-song just before Stevie hung up, evidence she’d probably been listening in on every word. 

As he wandered back to his bedroom in a daze, 11:11 blinked at him from the digital alarm clock on his bedside table.

Eddie didn’t even need to make a wish.

Travolta and his flying car had nothing on him. 

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Incomprehensible Horror. // Demon!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Halloween Special 🎃

MDNI, DD:DNE(?): reader discretion is advised.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to prevent seeing dark content from me.

WARNINGS: dubcon, cunnilingus, demon fucking(?), p in v sex, past life, mentions of abuse, plotting, murder, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), size kink, cum eating, slight breeding kink, spooky vibes(?), manhandling, so much canon divergence, GoT S8 spoilers(?) kinda idk, the plot is shifted and extremely altered to fit this story. + not proofread

WC: 3.8k

A/N: the original draft got deleted and i had to rewrite it because I wanted to publish this before Halloween is over, so this is slightly rushed :(

There was something extremely eerie about the red keep that always set you on the edge whenever you would hear stories about it.

The burnt down remnants of it untouched as the city around it prospered, only developing more as the time passed on, with skyscrapers, branded shops, turning into what you would call a 'modern city'.

King's Landing was not the way it was anymore, the destruction of it provided a reason to rebuild the city entirely, it was a lengthy process but definitely worth it.

A seemingly innocent city until you look past the sky scrapers, shops, etc, revealing a sinister and a tragic history of the land, a story that involves a royal family fighting and going mad for the throne, only to succumb to their madness and go extinct.

There have been many attempts in the past to rebuild it, but all in vain as there have been cases of construction accidents, fatal injuries, suicides, making it impossible to rebuild it, so they turned it into a tourist attraction.

What a way to make money.

Yet they close it off the moment the sun begins to set.

You had visited it a lot, having been living in King's Landing for a while, it was basically harmless, making you wonder why it was rumoured to be haunted, when it's just a disfigured building with half of its structure on the ground.

It was a casual weekday for you, returning to your apartment from work after the sun had long set, you took the elevator up the building, the music abruptly coming to a stop way before you reached your floor, leaving you confused, but you soon broke out of your confusion when you heard the familiar 'ding' indicating that you reached your floor, and as soon as you left the elevator the automatic doors slammed quickly, causing a loud sound, startling you.

It seemed as if the elevator was having technical difficulties.

You make a mental note to take the elevator less often until it is fixed.

You quickly scurry to the side of your apartment, pulling the keys out and pushing it into the lockhole, turning it, which opens the door, but you stumble over something and lose your balance, holding the wall for support to not fall until you finally push yourself back onto your feet and look down.

It was a package.

But you had not ordered anything.

Weirdly enough, there was no address.

You should've left it there.

But you took it inside.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and the package not having any address only further fuelled your justification for opening it.

It was a book.

An occult type of book to be exact.

You opened it and skimmed through the pages, it seemed more like a personal diary than an instruction based book for spells.

And it was convincing enough at first until you read a certain page.

“Go to the ruins of the red keep at 3AM, and chant this, 'Oh rōvēgrie zaldrīzes dārilaros, māzigon naejot se iōragon gō nyke, ivestragī aōha kasta se melkasta laesi jurnegon rȳ nyke, iksan isse jorrāelagon hen aōha dohaeragon, kesan krenyikhé tepagon mirros ao jaelagon' for a miracle!” (Oh great dragon prince, come forward and stand before me, let your blue and purple eyes look at me, I am in need of your help, I will gladly give anything you wish.)

This made you chuckle, what kind of prank was this? This was so badly written to the point of making any paranoia you felt about this book dissipate immediately.

I mean, chanting spells? to summon a dead prince? it made you laugh, and of course the location was the red keep, a place rumoured to be haunted. It couldn't not be more obvious than that, because whatever this was, was clearly a joke.

So you pushed the book aside and settled for bed.

Sleep did not come to you.

Which you found odd.

You would usually be extremely tired, and the moment you lay on the bed, you would be pulled under the depth of slumber.

Yet now you squirmed, not being able to find any sleep.

You don't know how many hours passed, making you frustrated.

And your mind wandered off to what you had read earlier.

You glanced at the time, it read 2AM.

You purse your lips in thought, not knowing what to do.

You got up from your bed.

You knew this was a bad idea, sneaking into the red keep, with the stupid book in your hand as you navigated through the building, and then you ended up in a room with a bunch of paintings of the past targaryens.

You set the book down and kneeled, looking at the verse you were supposed to chant out loud, you bought out your phone and looked at the time, it read 2:59AM.

One more minute.

You did not know why you were doing this, normally, you were a rational person, you usually don't let your curiosity win in situations like this, having control over it, but in this case, it seems you had lost all your control, and it seemed as your mind is being controlled to do whatever was written on that page.

Besides, it's not like anything would happen.

It seemed fake after all.

Trying doesn't hurt.

You never really believed in ghosts or demons yourself, so what were you scared of?

And so as soon as the time read 3AM, you chanted the saying out loud.

You waited.

And waited.

You looked at the time, 3:10AM.

Nothing happened.

You let out a scoff, what did you expect? A demon to appear?

You collected the book and left the scene, annoyed that nothing happened, but you were also glad nothing happened at the same time.

The air felt colder than before, and lights seemed to flicker constantly whenever you crossed a street light, everything seemed out of place and odd, the buildings looked distorted.

Was your paranoid finally getting to you?

You felt a chill run up your spine.

It felt as if someone whispered in your ear, causing you to jump and look back, only to find nothing.

This was setting you on edge, you quickly walked faster back to your apartment, you frowned when you saw the "out of order" sign on the elevator, knowing that it was not there when you used it to come down prior to your visit to the red keep.

You sighed heavily and took the stairs, climbing to the floor you lived in, but for an odd reason, the stairs seemed to go on for longer, the more you climbed, the more they went on, you did not know if you were seeing things for feeling that way simply cause you were spooked, but you know for a fact that climbing 7 floors should not take more than 10 minutes at a slow pace, and yet here you were still climbing at a fast pace yet the stairs seemed to be never ending, you did not know if you were hallucinating the scribbled out floor numbers assigned to the respective floors or if they were originally like that before.

You looked down the stairwell, and it only seemed as if you climbed 3 floors, which left you baffled. You ran up as fast as you could, and to your relief you saw the '7th floor' on the board, indicating you were on your floor. You sighed in relief, making your way to your apartment, you did your best to ignore the constant flicker of lights, and what seemed like a dark figure standing from the corner of your eyes, the keys fumbled in your hands, it took you a few tries to unlock the door and when you did, you saw the figure move towards you, so you quickly rushed inside and slammed the door shut behind you.

You leaned against the door breathing heavily, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, to try and calm your mind. You cannot tell if this was just your mind playing tricks because you're so worked up, or something odd is actually happening, but you know for the fact that whatever you were seeing was real.

Your apartment suddenly starts smelling putrid, making you scrunch up your nose. The smell was unbearable, as if thousands of dead rats were in your apartment, decaying away. It made you want to throw up, the foul scent leaving you light headed as you went towards your bedroom, to access the attached bathroom.

Luckily for you, the bedroom smelled like it usually would instead of dead rats, so you took a deep breath of the normal air, the nausea beginning to slowly fade away.

“For what have you summoned me, mortal?” a deep voice says, making you freeze in your spot, you turn around and your eyes widen in horror, as you take in the sight in front of you.

The face of a goat with horns, and scales that belonged to a dragon running down its upper body, stopping at it's elbows, black fluid dripping from its body, covering it's most intimate area, and its legs covered in scales as well, your voice was stuck in your throat, not being able to scream as the sheer panic made it unable to.

It looks confused at your horror filled face before looking down to its body and sighing annoyedly, and then its body distorts, the sound of bones cracking, flesh turning and squeezing, you watch the entire thing happen, the way its body is changing shape until it stops, making your breath hitch in your throat.

It took the form of a human man, face now mimicking a normal human, yet it was also disfigured, with a scar running up his cheek to his eyebrow, and an eye patch on his left eye, before he took it off, revealing the sapphire placed in the eye socket. His gaze was piercing, staring daggers at you, as he grew visibly frustrated at your silence.

“Can't you speak?” his voice booms across the room, causing you to snap out of your fear, and finally answer him, “I-it was an accident, I didn't mean to.” you answer and that displeases him, face now carrying the expression of a scowl.

“You followed as the book had instructed, did you not?” he asks and you nod, “Then it is no accident.”

“I did not think it would actually work, it was my mistake, please its an accident-” your voice cracks, still trying to process what was happening, trying to form words that made sense. He pushed you against the wall, his hand wrapped around your throat, long sharp nails digging into the skin of your neck, restricting the passage of air as you struggled in his grip, “On accident you say? Then you must pay the price for wasting my time.” he said darkly, and released you, causing you to fall to the ground, coughing and taking lungfuls of air.

“Should I kill you and then take your soul? Or take your soul directly and watch as the light fades from your eyes, screaming and writhing in agony in my hold.” he ponders genuinely and you gulp in fear, tears welling up in your eyes, knowing that something stupid is now costing you your life. “Please forgive me- I did not mean for any of this to happen.” you beg, voice hoarse.

“Forgive you? You should not have stifled me to begin with, now you must pay the price for your own stupidity, what shall I do hmm? My time is incredibly precious after all.” he looks down at you and you quiver in fear.

He grabs your hair and pulls you to your feet, making you stand, his hot breath fans against your face as you look up at him, and then he scans your face, taking in your features and then his eye widens as if he realised something.

And then he smiles, the grip in your hair becoming even tighter, causing you to wince in pain, “Please- let go of me- I'm sorry.” you grip his hand, trying to make him let go of the hold he has on you, “Aemond- please.” and that's when he releases you.

“Ah, so you do remember me.” he says, amused and you look at him confused, “Huh? What do you mean?” you ask him genuinely and that's when you realised you called him Aemond, it came out so naturally to the point you did not notice it.

But you still had no idea what just occurred.

Who's Aemond?

He grabs your cheeks, “I had waited so many years.”

What is he talking about?

“I won't lose you this time.” he says and before you can respond, he presses his lips against yours, one hand wrapped around your waist as the other holds the back of your head, pressing your face against him.

Your head felt hazy all of a sudden.

Why does all of this feel familiar?

You don't protest when he pushes you on the bed, climbing on top of you, you just stare at him, blinking in confusion as he tears away at your clothing, “Oh how the fashion has changed overtime, I remember last time you were wearing a black gown, mourning the death of your husband.” he whispers in your year and you feel ringing in your ear.

“What an amazing actress you were, mourning him in such a convincing way, only to get fucked by me after the funeral.” his hands trail down your body, “Such good memories, to have you underneath me, moaning my name constantly like a prayer, you were the first woman I ever desired after my death, the one who broke my curse, letting me become a true demon, it was on accident too back then.” he chuckles, he grips your pants, tearing the fabric as if it were paper.

“Until they found out of course, that you conspired with a demon, and planned the murder of your own husband.” his voice turns dark, and the ringing in your ear gets louder, your mind spins. “I remember not being able to do anything as they burned you alive at the sept, sigils placed around you to prevent me from interfering, to watch your flesh on fire as you screamed in agony, screamed my name in pain and it was then I swore that I would destroy that city.” he growled darkly.

“And so I did, possessing my own descendant and burning the city down, not too long after your passing.” he recalls with a satisfied smirk on his face, “Do you still remember my full name?” he looks at you and the ringing suddenly stops, and everything seemed to be spinning around you, his face becomes blurry and your head begins to hurt, eyes beginning to water as you feel that you were set on fire, letting out a loud scream at the sheer amount of pain coursing through your body as memories you didn't recognize flowed through your mind, you writhing below him in pain, letting out loud cries, “Shh..” he caresses your head and suddenly the pain stops, making you breath heavily, making you close your eyes.

“Aemond Targaryen.” you hear your own voice speak and you open your eyes to look at him, he has a smirk on his face, a small smile grazes your face as well, lifting your hand up to caress his cheek, pulling his face towards you to kiss you, lips engulfing his, you breathe in his scent, and he suddenly doesn't smell putrid anymore, but instead of cloves and ash.

“Fucking cunts, all of them, they remained silent all throughout the time i was abused by him, but the moment I get my own revenge, they burnt me alive.” you say after pulling away from the kiss, gritting your teeth.

You felt so confused with yourself.

Both memories of your past life and current life clashing against each other, fighting for dominance, to decide who you were.

“It's over my love, I burnt them all down.” he kisses down your neck, to your breasts, and down to your cunt, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. You smile at him, spreading your legs wide for him to settle freely and latch his lips onto your clit, making you throw your head back when you feel his tongue move skillfully against the bundle of nerves, you grip his hair, shoving his face further into your cunt.

“Fuck- you taste the same as I remember, I missed this cunt so much, seven hells.” he curses, licking away at your cunt, you moan as his sharp teeth grazes your clit. “Watch your teeth-” you whimper, feeling his fingers prod at your entrance, before gently pushing them in. He pulls away from your cunt and watches his own fingers be engulfed by your cunt as he thrusts them in and out, he groans at the sight, wishing it was his cock plunging inside you. “Goodness gracious, you're so fucking divine.” he murmers before latching on your cunt again, tongue swirling against your bud.

You feel the band in your stomach, “Aemond, I'm cumming- I'm- fuck-!” you reach your peaking on his hands, back arched as the orgasm ripples through your body. You breath heavily and watch aemond climb up, his knees on the mattress of your bed as he bends your legs, your knees pressing to your chest.

You watch as he grabs his cock, your eyes widening at the sheer size of it before flitting over to his own, he smirks, “Aemond it won't fit-” you whine but he shushes you, “You took it with no problem before, tis the same.” he lines in up against your entrance, “But still-”

“Remember when we did it the first time, you said it wouldn't fit? Only to have you crying and cumming all over my cock like a common whore.” he says and you sigh, remembering the memory.

He slowly pushes his cock inside you, taking his own time, throwing his head back in pleasure, “Seven hells, you feel so fucking good, the gods be damned.” he grunts, feeling pleasure at the way your cunt is wrapped around him so perfectly. You grip the sheets below you for support, clenching your eyes shut as you try to adjust to him.

He grabs a hold of your legs, throwing them over his shoulder before he grabs your hips and starts thrusting in and out of you, making your body jolt up and down the bed at the force. Your moans of his name soon fill the room, and he moans too, closing his eye in pleasure as he continuously shoves his cock in and out of you.

He opens his eye to look down, only to smirk when he sees the outline of his cock in your lower abdomen whenever he thrusts fully inside, he presses a hand against it and you squirm, the pleasure amplifying, making your toes curl.

He leans down, causing your legs to fall off his shoulder and be pushed up against your chest one more, his long black tongue enters inside your mouth, extending far back into your throat making you gag before he pulls it back, finally letting both your lips meet. Your hands shoot up to his hair pushing him against you, he hums in satisfaction. His scales are back on his body, along with his horns, partly turning into his demonic form, you feel him grow in size, both height and mass, and eventually down there, which rips an orgasm from you, wetness flowing down your hole and dirtying the sheets and you choke on your own spit at the sudden peak.

He pulls out, and you look at him in confusion, knowing he didn't peak yet, but soon the confusion is replaced with anticipation as he flips you around onto your stomach, your body knows what to do immediately and you support yourself on your arms and knees. Aemond doesn't waste another moment before pushing himself inside you, letting out a loud moan when he feels you clench around him.

His pace is brutal and fast, only seeming to care about his own pleasure, he grabs you by your hair and tugs on it, causing you to curve your head backward but not lean back, he's fucking you like an animal in heat, the size difference making it easy to manhandle you as he wishes.

He soon feels his peak arriving after pounding into you like a madman, and he spills himself deep inside you, cumming so much to the point it makes you feel bloated and so full, you whine when you feel his pull out. He watches as his seed leaks out of you, gathering it with his index finger and tasting it, humming at it.

“I wish my seed takes.” he mutters.

He turns you on your back again, and holds your legs wide and spread apart, and spits on your cunt, before leaning down, holding your thighs apart and once again presses his warm mouth against your cunt, only this time he shoves his long tongue down your hole, you can feel him licking around there, eating up his own spend, and that's when he flicks his tongue upwards inside you, grazing your gspot and your thighs shut around his head, trying to prevent him from making you cum again, too overstimulated and tired.

“Aemond- another time, please- I'm so tired.” you whine, your eyes closing, and he listens to you, pulling away, withdrawing his tongue from inside of you. He climbs next to you in bed, shifting into his full human form again and pulling you close.

“I won't let anyone take you away from me now.” he murmurs in your ear and you nod, turning and snuggling close to him.

There were so many questions left unanswered.

Each and everything was an odd occurrence.

From the encounter of the package to you summoning a demon, who turned out to be the one you loved & fucked in your past life, even conspiring with him to kill your abusive husband, and to fucking him again, and now laying safely wrapped in his arms.

Who was the one that sent you the package then?

Just then you remember an odd event.

You remembered the text and pictures of the book with a bunch of spells and summoning rituals, you hadn't noticed it then but it was the same handwriting as yours.

It was your diary.

And you remember losing it the day right before you were burnt to death.

And you remember writing the words you had heard in your dream, confused back then as what "3AM" meant.

You did not want to dwell on this anymore.

Because you realised that it would drive into madness.

And so, you drifted off into slumber in the arms of your beloved.

[chiyoso]

“THE MARA'S WILL”

someone as fragile as you shouldn't have to reign the bloodied fields of cloudford, along with raging war against two powerful factions—as well as an internal presence that invaded your mind that started all of this mayhem.

content warnings; oneshot · female reader · honkai impact 3rd inspired · takes place after xianzhou arc · canon universe · manupulation · mentions of depressive tendencies · declining mental health · war · death · traumatic events · mentions of blood · fighting · sensitive descriptions · dead dove: do not eat.

author notes; an open ending is an open ending. i appreciate all your of love for this oneshot, but i won't be making pt2. ty.

The Astral Express.

A widely known faction of celestial mysteriousness that traverses across the galaxy, they dedicate themselves to the ways of trailblaze and adventure, an enormous train conducted by a rumored fluffy creature that travels through vast worlds with its starry residers.

However, you didn't expect to meet the faction like this. The time that you yourself encountered the famous members of the Express— or rather, they bumped into you.

A memorable impression, leading their hearts and minds to waver in complete uneasiness, fear and curiousity.

It was one of those moments. Moments of tranquility, replaced almost immediately with unsightly chaos, and screeching horrors.

And they weren't coming from you.

2:49 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

NOW PLAYING ♪ TOT MUSICA

11 minutes until eruption.

ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ

ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ

“F- Fu-aahh.... Haah...” You groaned in pain. The sounds of alarms, crumbling and a voice of elegant dread echoed inside your mind, chanting unfamiliar, incomprehensible sounds that you were unable to understand nor fathom its sound waves.

Your flesh continued to crack as gold seeped out from the insides, bright lightning marks all around your form, accompanied with your heavy eyelids, struggling to keep your consciousness as you panted heavily. Your thoughts fogged viciously with memories of all kinds, your mind had felt like a mix between ice and fire. A flaming vortex along with an Icy storm that seethed inside, causing a severe throbbing that had you wailing in pain in heaps of volume consecutively as you grip your head.

“M- Mr. Yang!” A high pitched voice trembled, struggling on her feet while a grey haired female helped her up to stabilize her balance.

“Go. Call for reinforcements. I'll take it from here.” He says, gripping his cane while the other hand hoists his frames up to his nose bridge, returning his gaze towards the sight of you.

Reinforcements?

“H-hhgk—” You coughed up gold. Your face stained with your aureate tears, gasping for air as you clenched the area of your heart, which was beaming light, pulsating with the same color as the liquid that stained your whole being.

What was happening?

You screech, lower limbs suddenly at work, executing swift dodges that your untrained body couldn't handle physically, stretching and tearing your muscles.

Something was fighting for survival, and it wasn't you.

Your actions lowered the morale of determination from the Cloud Knights that had stationed on the sidelines, now replaced with a panic and fear from your ever so visibly increasing strength and agility, etching negative emotions into their wounded states that you have inflicted previously.

The man with the glasses, distance away from you clicked his tongue in frustration, he had summoned a multitude of black holes, raining hellish orbs of gravity towards you in such high speeds and velocity, but you... despite your poor state of self, you've managed to avoid them all.

But,

Even you weren't aware of your own skillful sequences.

ᛗᛁᛖ ᚾᛖᚷ ᛟᚾ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ ᚷᛁᛖᚲ

ᚾᚨᚺ ᛈᚺᚨᛋ ᛏᛖᛉᛉᛖ ᛚᚨᚺ

“P- Please... shut... get out of m—”

Feeble attempts of retribution, cease your resistance.

Play into submission, child of Lan.

You cocked your head to the skies, letting out gutteral sobs to the heavens, screaming and pleading your heart out while your own nails dug into your skin, your eyes weeped in gold, blurring your sense of sight.

Your thoughts were a sea of fragmented memories, bad ones, the negative ones that only fueled your transformation and the thread of your consciousness that you desperately were holding onto, was now being threatened harshly.

The man in glasses gripped his cane, firming his hold while witnessing your overwhelming presence and what was happening infront of him.

You were talking to yourself. You were visibly in pain, you were weeping, and the mara that was supposed to overcome you right now was... being barely resisted. Resisted. Resisted?

That's impossible.

You can't resist the Mara.

Beads of sweat formed trickled down along his jawline, his eyes diluded towards the sight that was all too familiar for him.

Someone- or something was talking to you, and he felt nothing but the sensation of dread swell inside him.

He didn't know what to do. Based on your own visible actions, it was clear—you didn't mean to do any harm, you were struggling more than anyone in this dire situation.

You brought your tainted hands that was darkening onto your face, trying to hold onto what's left of yourself, your consciousness.

“PLEASE! L- LEAVE M—” You choked out.

You were stumbling on your feet, drowning in pain as you sobbed your pleas of desperation.

His face scrunches, biting his bottom lip, frustrated over his hesitancy and lack of determination into going all out against you.

You reminded him of a state that reminded him of his past companions from another world, a state that only led to an upbringing of a powerful force, leading to the destruction of humanity and civilizations, a state that almost destroyed his homeworld.

But he had to remind himself repeatedly, you were just... Mara-strucked. A man-made work from the schemes of Sanctus Medicus, their work, befalling to an unfortunate character before him.

But... why the hell were you talking to yourself? Why were you pleading? Crying? How were you still able to talk? And most importantly, how were you still able to resist your supposed inevitable demise?

You peeked through your digits, your eyes pierce to the man with glasses, before lowering your hands to your sides in idle, continuing to pant heavily in place.

Your stance had your staggering legs slightly bent, your chin upwards—but your stained eyes remained on the figure infront of you.

His eyes diluded upon meeting your sorrowful gaze, his hand tightened around his cane further, seemingly ready to take on any action you will commence, but he wished you didn't engage, he wished for your attacks to cease. He didn't desire to harm you at all—You were in obvious pain, emotionally, physically and mentally, and only his veteran observations can see that.

“M- Miss—”

“Kill me.”

You said breathily with your burning throat, your voice had been accompanied with a second, mixing with your original tone with a now deeper, and sinister chord that showed the fruition of the transformation you were currently experiencing.

Your hands find their way to your throat as you coughed out more gold, along with the taste of iron that mixed with the aureate liquid that had turned into an morbid shade of color from your blood.

Your legs gave in, bringing you to your knees while you continued to choke on your own secretes, sobbing continuously from the sensations you were experiencing.

“BENEFACTOR! SHE HAS FALLEN!”

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

“END HER LIFE BEFOR—” “Gghk-... Nngh...”

“Reinforcements are on their way.”

“I- It hurts.... It HURTS!!!”

“Call for further units! At ONCE!”

“P- Please tell me I'll live...”

“BENEFACTOR ITS YOUR CHANCE!”

“M- Monster!” “M- MY ARMS!”

“KILL HER!” “HER STRENGTH IS ONLY-”

“KILL HER!” “KILL HER!”

“KILL HER!!!!”

“KILL HER!”

The man with glasses was overwhelmed with contradicting emotions, hindering his wavering will to use the opportunity of your vulnerability.

The cries and pleas of desperation from the several Cloud Knights that have fallen from your battle, ring through the bloodied field, along with your genuine—sorrowful filled sobs that only haunted and hesitated him much more.

His own thoughts were only mirroring the mess that you were in, having to be filled with deep memories of a life that was filled with death and torment, reminding him of his sins once again.

The child of the Hunt, hopelessly clings onto the wretched humanity, only to be shunned out and betrayed by your own race.

I feel their sea of desperation, their desires for your lesser existence to perish without a trace in the galaxy.

Give into the sensations of truth, let it embrace your poorly sculpted soul, for I will accept you without fail.

You were already on the floor arched, your hands had continued to hold your head, gripping your hair as you wallowed in your pool of tears, gold and blood that soaked your once beautiful skin.

“Sss-top... Stop... Please...”

You've already hurt your own kind.

“I- I... Hgk— Ahh-Haah...”

You've already inflicted enough despair and chaos to the point where these lowly humans cling onto their life in a feeble attempt of living.

“Th- That's not...”

Savor their pleas and screams of anguish as they call upon your death. You aren't wanted, you aren't needed.

“THAT'S NOT TRUE—”

The floor beneath your shaking body began to crack, the density and force around you had only drastically strengthen, creating a growing crater below you.

You are only inducing fear in your surroundings, and you are more than aware of what you're causing.

Hatred. Anguish. Despair. A need for violent measures. A selfish greed of clinging onto life from their grave wounds you placed upon them. This is all you.

All you.

Mindlessly in pain, your body unwillingly helps itself up despite your own injuries. You took a heavy step forward, only ceasing the noises that surrounded you as they witness your hauntingly beautiful yet bloodied form, but there was no attraction, they were now instilled with a new type of fear.

2:55 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

5 minutes until eruption.

You were a golden death. A victim.

A new dreadful existence that was unintentionally yet successfully created by Sanctus Medicus.

The golden liquid had already burned the rest of your outfit. Your body only continued to pour gold from the rifts on your skin, your heart—or your now crystalized core, pulsated with consecutive glows, as if your former heart, and the rest of your biology had changed, in which case, it did.

That's it... Embrace it... Your perfected, honed and better self.

Shut up.

The voice chuckles, continuing to fog and envelope your whole essence.

The unwavering, unbearable pain was now released, replaced with the sensations of your skin, healing slowly. The paleness in your face had become warm once again along with your body.

Your hair only grew longer, luscious and free, your eyes glimmered in high self esteem once more, while previous cracks all over your body had almost disappear as if nothing was there in the first place.

You will never admit it, but you felt more healthy, you felt beautiful, you felt confident, you felt...

New, refreshed and reborn, and you grasped control of yourself once again.

Your newfound vigor and vitality only brought unease and curiousity to the Cloud Knights who loathed your existence being a supposed child of Yaoshi the Abundance now.

The man with glasses couldn't help but be reminded of his weakness from your newfound growth, he had hesitated until now, witnessing your upbringing and his own actions had left a sour feeling on his drying throat, unease had surrounded the man, in fear of what will commence. He doesn't know how much longer he can fight, accompanied with the knowledge of his two fatigued Astral companions seeking out help of any kind, but another question lingered in his thoughts;

What were you?

You weren't a mindless Mara-strucked individual that they've previously continuously dealt with, nor you had the appearance of golden leaves that battered and grew out of you. You were just a woman, at what he assumes to be your very prime, the high peak of your health, appearance, physicality and mental state, and your curiousity and confusion about your own state confirmed his assumptions.

“I-...” Your senses interrupt you as your instincts come into fruition, tilting your head to the right, only to reveal a Cloud-Piercing spear infront of your vision that had thrusted forward from behind. The light, horizontal slit from your left cheek which the Cloud Knight slightly grazed, begun to heal almost quickly, as well as suddenly realizing your hand was already around the unfortunate Cloud Knight's neck, lifting them up in a chokehold as their air supply begins to be cut off.

With widened eyes, you immediately loosened your grasp upon becoming aware of your actions, retorting your hand while guilt pumped into you.

“It- It was... It was instinct I-” Your voice cracked, bringing both of your hands to cover your mouth as your once blurred vision finally had a good look to your surroundings, grasping the situation and your hellish surroundings at bay.

Remember the sight.

Your mind throbbed once again, yet your nerves find ways to soothe the pain, but... even then, it will never be able to heal your aching heart and the damage you inflicted against the soldiers of the Xianzhou Alliance.

Instincts went into play once more, feeling a sudden familiar, pulling force behind moving towards you in a faster, denser velocity, only for you to barely dodge a faster orb of gravity that you had previously, went up against.

“W- Wait! I-” You turn your face quickly towards the man whom attacked you just now, only to be met with a bright, icy blade that moved quickly towards you, but both of your hands had already instinctively raise to your face, piercing both of your palms instead, grasping in the side of the bloodied tip of the cold sword that pierced you.

“FUCK!!! NNGH—!” You whimpered in pain, feeling the sensations of burning that sourced within your palms, along with the skin and nerves that was already healing, your own rejuvenating flesh, pushing out the icy sword as a 'CLANG' follows suit.

“Hmph. You're lucky I didn't throw it with too much force, otherwise you wouldn't be able to survive that!” A voice of a young boy graced the battlefield, turning the red sea into a cold, thundering storm of snow and ice, putting the injured Cloud Knights at ease and discomfort from the coldness that surrounded the environent.

“L-Lieutenant Yanqing!” A Cloud Knight gasped at his arrival, alerting the rest with jarred cheers erupting, while your gaze dilutes back and forth to the man with glasses—and a child who happens to be a lieutenant that had arrived.

“P- Please- I-”

“Save it servant of the Abundance!”

A continuing, cold breeze of snow enveloped the young boy, his aqua colored swords flying towards you once more.

Now equipped with newfound, engraved instincts that you have begun to get use to, your body- that had not tasted the ways of war and battle, danced its way around elegantly and flexibly from the skillful wrath of ice that relentlessly continued to attack you.

Despite your consciousness and having a sense of control once again, you felt another sensation, one that felt like another presence, another soul, tangled with yours, tugging at your essence, and it was most definitely the reason as to why you were moving in such a way, that continued to inflict fear and uneasiness to the Cloud Knights, and the man with the glasses whom continued to witness your dance of agility and grace against the right hand of the Arbiter General.

...

...

Why me...?

Imperfect.

There are many others.

...

The embodiment of failure and success.

Wh- What does that even mea—

A host of purity and defections all in one. All suited for me.

A canvas of the purest, warmest of soul, painted with absolute grief, sadness, regret, pain — yet harboring no anger, rage, hatred. A non-existent need for revenge.

Something a certain diciple of mine lacked, thus her inevitable defeat from the subjects of Akivili.

And you are mine to break and reconstruct. I can finally fathom why the Hunt had their arrows set on you.

The words gnawed your logical, racing thoughts, leaving you in a moment of disarray, visibly seen from your relentless opponent.

The Hunt... The... Reignbow Arbiter? But—

“Hhgk—!”

Tch. So flawed.

You felt another burning sensation to the left side of your waist, looking towards a deep cut that split your flesh into two from the icy blades that hailed like the rain against you, yet once again, it had begun to heal slowly, as sounds of your flesh and cells crickled, halting the young boy in his trained steps for a moment.

“What... What are y—” The young boy gets cut off.

Your gaze suddenly returns to the boy, with your left iris flickering into a golden color, replacing your original shade.

“Your demise.” The voice took over your vocals for a moment.

“N- No! you will NOT HARM ANYONE FURTHER!” You grit your teeth, holding your curled fists into each other, retraining yourself and letting the voice solely focus on avoiding further attacks.

How unpleasant.

Why do you continue to resist, child of Lan?

The sight of you... talking to yourself? No... Your voice had continued to change back and forth, only confusing him further.

Something was amiss, but the young boy and his youth couldn't fanthom the uniqueness of the situation before him, he had only one thing in his determined mind, the solution of exterminating a being that threatened the peace for the Xianzhou Luofu; You.

The boy took his stance, his flying swords once again stationed behind him, but a sudden deep voice emerges from behind him, only startling the whole battlefield in his appearance.

“Yanqing. Well done in keeping the adversary at bay.”

A commanding presence immediately intensified the trickling air of tension, only leaving sounds of sharp breaths and your continuous argument with yourself.

Hush.

Huh?

You fall into silence to its bidding, only to look around to the young boy, who was now accompanied with the famous Arbiter General, holding a glaive that had a threatening presence, along with the General himself.

“I apologies for my tardiness Mr. Yang. I had matters to tend to.” The strong presence spoke, his eyes hovering upon your naked, yet coated state, assessing the situation with an unknown gleam in his eyes.

“Where of Stelle and March?” The man with glasses walked beside him, mirroring his gaze upon the beautiful woman before their sights.

“I sent message to the High Elder Vidyadhra medic to tend to their wounds, not to worry, they will be back.” He said faced to him with a knowing smile, only causing goosebumps to your skin, he was taking in this stage you set lightly, only irritating the voice in your head slightly.

“Now... What of the contexts of this fascinating situation?” The Arbiter General's penetrating gaze returns to you, eyeing your undeniable attracting form. You were oblivious, but the voice wasn't.

Leave the premises, now.

Wha? W- Who are you to tell me what t—

The throbbing had begun once again. Their conversations sealed upon noticing your actions as your hands gripped tightly around your head, whimpering in place.

“S- Stop...”

No. If you perish, I-

...

Leave, woman.

“Is she...?” The Arbiter General looks towards the man with the glasses, his eyebrow raised slightly in speculation.

“She's... She had been at this state for more than a few minutes since earlier...” He frowned, gripping his cane, being reminded of fragments from his life that whispered evily to him.

“Who cares? Let's extinguish her presence already General!” Impatient, the young boy firmed his grasp around the hilt of his sword of ice, pointing the tip of the sharpness towards you, his sky filled eyes sending daggers to your direction with determination.

“Patience little lieutenant. One does not rush in unknown, trifling matters.” The General warns with a faint smile that doesn't reach to his eyes, and without a choice from the tone of command, the young boy's will wavers with a sigh, lowering his blade in defeat.

“P- Please, end me...”

Your words grasped the attention of the trio, while your tears began to flow, taking note of your willingness to submit in defeat.

“See?! Even—” The young boy gets cut off once more, earning a serious glare from the General that hushed him almost immediately.

“Please I-... I'm sorry for causing harm...” You continued to sob quietly, gritting your teeth while your head continued to throb mercilessly with ruthless, familiar pain.

I said leave now, and I'll cease the pain.

The Arbiter General takes a step forward, his left hand holding the body of his glaive, no words left needed to describe that despite his aloof hold around his weapon, he was more than ready for any attempt of violent assault.

NOW.

Mirroring the gesture of his, you took a step back abiding the voice's word, your glistening, heterochromic eyes lock with the readied General, only fascinating him further from your saddened, alluring gaze. Noticing your hesitancy for closeness.

“...My lady, if you escape this very moment, I will make sure that every inch of the Xianzhou Luofu will be well guarded, awaiting your presence in every corner you find yourself in to hide away from our— from my grasp.”

A silence from him ensued for a few long moments, following a faint warning smile from earlier, his gaze unwavering towards you while you weeped, assuming you aren't able to grasp his own chords.

“I- I do not... wish to harm anyo—”

“You're right my lady, I won't allow it.” He came closer, moving towards you with delicacy in his footsteps.

“ ... ”

...

...Stubborn child.

“Don't go, my lady.”

“It- It hurts... My head... General I-”

“Our High Elder Vidyadhra apothecary will assist you.” The General says firmly with undertones of softness, taking another step forward, but you remained still, weeping in silence from the continuous throbbing and regeneration of the nerves that seethed you repeatedly.

He manipulates.

S- Stop the—hhnghk... Please...

His experienced words, eons worth of vocabulary, coming into fruition, laying the power of syllables onto you. Do not—

I DON'T- I CANNOT CARE FROM THE UNBEARABLE PAIN YOU CONTINUE TO MAKE ME SUFFER IN!

A befitting punishment for your unwilling soul.

“I- I didn't mean to... General I- Hnnhk—...” Your form staggers, suffering from the internal turmoil that resumed, collapsing in place—but before you hit the floor, the sensation of warmth arrived behind your lower back and waist.

You found your crystalized golden core, your bare, coated chest pressed up against a man with command, towering and holding your suddenly weakened state that matched a situation one again in prior events.

“Jing Yuan.” He said, lowering his own golden to you, his expression, hidden with enthrall from your weakened state.

You hear the voice click its tongue.

“I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so—”

“Hush my lady,” He said in his low, husk voice, holding your weakened body, his hand firming against the soft, coated and warming flesh of your waist, stirring a once familiar sensation that rooted in his stomach.

“General Jing Yuan—” The young boy averted his gaze with a slight flush in his cheeks. Jing Yuan had not heard him, lest deciding to tend to the injured Cloud Knights instead, grumbling under his breath.

The man with glasses came closer to the two of you, his gaze feigning ignorance on the display.

“Miss... What—” He gets cut off, both men alarmed from your sudden intense grip around his biceps, your golden, crystalized core beaming, pulsating rapidly along with your quickened breath.

A golden ray of light erupted from you surrounding you vertically in a circle, sending the light up towards the sky endlessly, alerting everyone who bore witness to the intense display.

So be it.

A powerful, echoing screech escaped your mouth, tilting your head up to the direction of the clouds that welcomed your gaze as rubbles of cement from the previous struggles of the battle began to levitate the surroundings.

”ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᚲ ᚷᚨᚺ ᛉᚨᚾ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛏᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᚨᚲ”

I claim your soul, little child of the Hunt.

You will be my host, my pure, imperfection of despair.

Only I shall intertwine with you, body, mind and soul eternally.

And this mortal, blessed with the lightning guardian spirit, shall be your first prey.

3:00 PM — CLOUDFORD, XIANZHOU LUOFU

The eruption commences.

how ironic, this fic being my first successful hsr fic ended up being the reason why i got my ppl pleasing tendencies back pfft. anyways, reblogs help my audience reach, thank you!

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Play It As It Lays

[taehyung x reader] [1.5k smut: mirror sex, creampie, unprotected sex, virgin kink??, really just porn with a lil bit of plot; Taehyung is a famous Cellist who was hired to tutor OC.

Just a self-indulgent fic.

-

People said to never meet your heroes.

You'll be let down, they say.

But you would beg to differ.

And beg, you do.

With your bodies sitting naked on the couch, Taehyung has you facing the mirror and the sight of your petite frame slotted between his bulging naked thighs shoots up your arousal. Your perfectly intertwined limbs could inspire a whole series of shunga artwork.

Calloused hands grip each of your knees and push them wider apart before a hand returns to cup your dripping sex.

"Please," you whine. The words that fell from your swollen lips were almost incomprehensible because of how breathy and timid it sounded.

But that was just one of Kim Taehyung's effect.

The man lives up to his reputation in the Classical music industry—charisma just as alluring as people described and his presence calls for attention, not because he, himself, demands it, rather there is something lingering in his aura that just lures and pulls you into him. And when he looks at you, it's a mixed feeling of intimidation and desire to keep his eyes on you.

And to you, it makes you want to defy him. You itch to see if you can crack that calm and stoic demeanor of his.

Taehyung only hums in response to your plea and you feel his chest rumble on your back. It's close to an hour and yet all he did with his finger was tease you. Everything he has done was all build-up, never the climax.

"You're so delicate." His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you. His body is so close, you hear the wet smacking of his tongue inside his mouth as he speaks. He dips his fingers inside your pussy as he presses his thumb on your nub, leaving you shuddering in pleasure. "And so sensitive. My pretty virgin," he tsks. "You're making a mess, darling."

You mumble out a half-hearted apology to which he snorts at. You struggle to keep your tears at bay. Frustration and defeat are obviously written on your face. If only you knew how to touch yourself, you would've done the job yourself. But no. You can play with yourself all you want, but you've never experienced an orgasm. And none of what Taehyung does to your body now matches the pleasure when you touch yourself.

And so, you remain at his mercy.

It was torture to be teased, but the way Taehyung's arm muscle clenches and your body twitches has your attention stuck to the mirror. It was as if his hand was a bow and your body held the strings that create the most beautiful melodies.

His right hand pushes in and out of you in timed intervals and his left hand grips your neck, arms across your body to hold you close to his. It was oh-so-intimate.

But of course, this was also a way for Taehyung to restrain you.

"Take it," he lectured when your body thrashed around from sensitivity. "The pleasure is tenfold if you endure it. Just like playing the cello—a sublime piece is achieved from laborious and seemingly endless revisions. So, take it."

The growing warmth between you has you both sweating—the smell of sex in the air grows potent by the minute, pushing you further into your shared haze.

You don't mind that all Taehyung does is play with your body. He can do whatever he wants to you for all you care. But you also have this feral need to learn about his body—play with his cock and grip it as tight as you hold your instrument in place between your thighs. You want to hear the sounds he makes as you play with his body. He has been hearing you chant his name with moans and sighs in different pitches; it's his turn to sing.

You focus on Taehyung's hand disappearing and reappearing from your cunt. The velvet couch that carries your bodies is vandalized with your slick and his precum. His hands are truly just as skilled in playing the cello as it is in flitting around your body. You can almost taste it again—your sweet peak.

But you can't come like this. Not yet.

Your hand halts Taehyung's movement, tongue darting to wet your lips, "S-stop," you stutter. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, one eyebrow raising in question. And so, with your senses still muffled with lust, you try your best to answer clearly, "Wanna cum on your cock, sir.”

Your legs wobbled as you changed positions—you're now kneeling on the floor with his thick dick right on your face. You gulp at Taehyung's size but also swallow the pooling drool in your mouth.

You ought to thank your parents for hiring Taehyung to give you private lessons. Albeit this isn't the lesson they had in mind, you personally think this is more… beneficial for you.

Without wasting another second, your hand grips his base to erect his cock and you run your warm tongue from his balls to his slit. The man above you throws his head back as air is expelled from his pretty lips. He leans his body backward, arms propping him up and he sets his eyes on you. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You only respond with a smirk; smug eyes refusing to look away as you make a big show of sucking his tip like it’s the sweetest lollipop.

You're halfway there, you encourage yourself. You want to see the moment you break him.

Mimicking a move you watched on porn, you wet your hands with your slick before returning your hold on Taehyung's dick. With one hand stroking him up and down, your other hand caresses his balls within your palms like two delicate marbles.

Taehyung curses. You were sin incarnated.

Determined to get more from him, you push your head closer to his crotch, deep-throating his cock.

Unexpected and unprepared, Taehyung makes a guttural wail; his arm shoots up to hold you by your hair and his body reflexively sits up and pushes his cock at another deep angle inside your mouth which pulls another moan from the man.

You fight the urge to gag, and your eyes start to flood with tears. You could only claw at Taehyung's thighs.

Taehyung was quick to gather his wits and then chuckled at your state. His hand on your hair moves to cup your face before smudging your mascara as he wipes your tears before they fall.

"Come up," he instructs as he pulls his cock from your mouth. A plop is heard, and a string of your saliva mixed with his precum lingers from your lips. Taehyung's hands take control of your hips—his bruising hold guides you to sink down to his cock until you take all of him, pulling a pained moan from you.

Taehyung is a tight fit, and you fight through the initial discomfort as you move your hips. You teeter between the stinging stretch and warm addicting pleasure.

With a satisfied groan, Taehyung gently guides your head to level your sight with the full-length mirror and holds you in place. "Take a look at yourself. You look as heavenly as you sound," his voice in your ear is so soft and saccharine, you believe him. "And see how well you take me like a good girl," he praises, the tone switching to a little bit strained as your pussy clenches—the pain morphing to lust and desire. His hand goes back to your hips to help you ride his cock. The minimal movement gives you both pleasurable tugs, you can't help but moan.

With his thighs now caged between your own, you momentarily bend down to kiss his knees. Your action has him throwing his head back once again. But his eyes trail down to your curved spine all the way down to your ass perched on his hips.

Deciding that you've adjusted to his cock, Taehyung bounces your hips on his cock. The sight of your arousal creaming around his crotch has him salivating. As much as he wants to lick you clean, he badly needs a release. It's a miracle he lasted almost more than an hour.

You plant your feet on the ground and start moving at your own pace. Each slam of your ass on his thighs reverberated in the room as if cheering you on as you bounced faster and harder on his cock.

A contrast of warmth and shivers washed over your body as Taehyung laid open-mouth kisses on your back. As he reaches your neck, he sucks on the soft flesh to claim you, mark you—so you remember this night which will be the first of many. He promises.

You grab and tug at his hair to pull him toward your puckered lips and he obliges. The echoing sound in the room is no longer just your skin slapping but the smacking sound of your lips as you breathe each other in.

"Sir-r, I-I’m close," you stutter out between kisses amidst overwhelming pleasure. Taehyung meets your thrusts halfway. And as your pace increases, so does the frequency of the moans of the man behind you.

With a powered thrust, your body trembles as you climax. Taehyung follows not long after—your pussy spasming around his dick has him shooting up his cum inside you as he wraps you in his arms.

People who warned you to never meet your heroes, clearly never had the privilege of meeting Kim Taehyung.

-

[smallgodseries]

She will forgive almost anything once.  Twice, if you’re lucky.

On the third transgression, there will be consequences.

Once, she could be easy.  Once, she could be a childhood pet, a mother’s maiden name, an elementary school’s mascot.  Once, she was unbreakable. Now, she is become endless strings of letters and numbers, incomprehensible, unpronounceable, holy and profane.  Speak her secret names aloud and wake the end of days.  Chant them to the winds and bring on Armageddon.

And still the malefactors chase at her heels and undo her good works, cracking them like pearls in search of the pearls within.  She is not protected.  She is not safe.

All she has ever wanted was to be safe.  From the days of forts on wind-racked hillsides to today, she has been seeking naught but safety, and forever we deny her that simple release, that piece of peace.  All she wants is to protect her treasures and be left alone.

But as our methods of intrusion grow ever more sophisticated, so must her methods of evasion.  One day she will transcend even godhood, becoming something so incomprehensibly arcane that it becomes unspeakable and incomprehensible.

And the hackers will merely sigh and upgrade their tools, for she will never be left alone.

Our presence is the penance she must pay for whatever sins she carried with her into godhood, and as long as we continue to press her, she knows that she is not forgiven.